


Necrosis of the Heart

by zerozerokyu



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Brain Damage, Gore, In the flesh Inspired, M/M, MI6 Cafe, Memory Loss, Mild Gore, Occult October Challenge, Zombie!Q, halloween fic, sp00qy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 07:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16471772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerozerokyu/pseuds/zerozerokyu
Summary: A year after the zombie outbreak, the government pretty much have rounded up all those affected to be treated in the facilities all over the country. Q is now stuck in one of those facilities with no memory of who he is before the rising.What he does knows for sure is:1) He does not enjoy being a zombie.2) He will never be "Normal"3) The food the facility keep giving him is disgusting and throwing a mountain of salt does not help with the taste either.PS. It said major character death but he zombie so he is kind of alive and dead at the same time?





	Necrosis of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for MI6 Cafe's Occult October challenge sp00Qy fic that took a month of procrastination and a lot of whining at my part as I wrote it. Hope you like it.  
> Inspired by "In The Flesh" and a bottle of mead that made me think up a bunch of random things.
> 
> Not beta'ed so if you see error do feel free to tell me and I will try to fix it.
> 
> Happy Halloween, All Saint's and Día de Muertos.
> 
> Follow me on tumbler at [ZeroZeroKyu](https://gloomymegu.tumblr.com/)

Another day, another lonely night full of keeping agents out of the hands of the enemies along with death’s boney clutches. R sighs as she packs her bags for home. The digital clock at the side shows 2 am. The days seem even longer now that she no longer have a friend to talk to or even feel the company. It has been a year since he was gone and she could still feel the pain of that loss. All have gone to hell during that period although there are still idiots who still threaten the nation despite the zombie outbreaks which have calmed down somewhat. No more fresh zombies, just the remaining who are rounded up daily to be kept in facilities and medicated to have their sanity back. Life has gone back to pretty much how it has been before the outbreak. As much of a normal one can expect after what has occurred.

 

“I miss having a day off and a holiday,” she mumbled to no one in particular as she rubs her tired eyes. She misses the time when things were much more simpler and she still enjoys her work. Back when things are very much just a spy plot but instead now it is a spy plot with the added addition of zombies.

 

Her screen started beeping and she groans. It better not be another agent who is in need of a chat through a mission just because they are bored cuz she wants to go back home and not in a mood to be their bloody companion. Her annoyance was wiped away when she saw the content of the alert. She could not believe what she is seeing, it is impossible. It just could not be. She clicks in for a better view and her heart leapt at the camera feed with the program highlighting the place she has to look. Without the program, she would have just assumed it was a false alarm of a feed with a bunch of zombies being brought to the facility to be cured. But there is no mistake of what she is seeing. It is him. He has appeared after much searching. 

 

She jabs the speed dial of her phone, her eyes not leaving the screen.

 

“Major. Major, you want to get down here fast. He has resurfaced and is now in the custody of facility 9.”

 

****

 

_ Lights flashed in his eyes. It was nauseating. His pupils no longer able to contract. It hurts him but he can't do anything about his eyes not functioning. He reaches and smashed in the nearest flickering television and he can feel his hands tingle. The broken screen leaving gashes in his hands. He does not feel a thing as he normally should feel when his flesh has been cut open. It is just open flesh to him now, his nerve endings now long dead. He watches curiously as black coagulated blood drips from the gash. He clutches and opens his hands fascinated by the new development of his body. Even his blood has lost its colour to indicate he is still alive. He knew he is no longer from the land of the living even if he does not know how is he still moving.  _

 

_ He looks around. His eyes scanning over the shop that has now looked like a scene out of a horror movie. _ __  
__  
_ The entire place was splattered with blood. Bloody handprints and markings decorated the entire room. The bodies lay like rubbery ghoulish mannequins that have been ripped carelessly by careless hands, the oesophagus and arteries sticking out like so much corrugated and rubber tubing. It looked as if a special effects team had worked overtime for some Friday the thirteenth movie set, but that smell... That smell could only come from recently slaughtered animals. In this case, the animals were human and their corpses were still warm, the blood thickening but not yet dried on their waxy skin. Their eyes widen in the look of pure terror, the last emotions they ever felt before their ultimate death. Lips hang open for their last plead for life but sadly they were killed all the same. No one was left alive and now a bunch of them lay dead with limbs being torn out and their heads cracked open. Others surrounding the bodies are now attacking the corpses, gnawing on them with bones crunching as they chew through the flesh. It is ironic how they are now in the supermarket and consuming the freshly deceased as a meal just like any other slaughtered meat products that could be found in the supermarket. _ __  
__  
_ Groans could be heard around him as other lumbered around aimlessly. He could care less what the others are doing, what he needs now is food. He goes back to what he is initially doing before his short distraction. His hands held the dead man’s head and he crudely peels the skin off. The scalp gave away easily leaving a bloody patch of tissues and skull which was smashed open violently with a loud crack. Dirt-caked fingers claws at the spongy pink brain that came off in chunks which he stuffed into his mouth. He groans at how delicious it felt on his tongue as he took in more chunks. It was as if they melted in his mouth. It felt like heaven, the most delicious meal he ever had in his entire life and he keeps tearing into the brain of the dead person in front of him. The dead eyes of the man staring back at him in silent terror, forever capturing his face as the last thing he saw before his head was ripped off. He looks at the now dull eyes of the dead man and reaches down to close the open eyes. He has no idea why he even did that but he knows it is unnerving to be watched and mostly it was due to some other reason he did not remember clearly. He has been having trouble remembering a lot of things ever since he raised, even his ability to communicate with words were lost resulting in groans and moans as his only way of speaking while on rare occasions just a single syllabus. Only bits and pieces of memories and blue eyes came back to him, everything is a cloud of muddled up grey. He still wonders why does he remember blue eyes among all he could remember. He was never able to understand why those blue eyes were etched into his memory. Maybe that was the colour of his eyes? No, it couldn’t be, his eyes are hazel if he remembers correctly. Or were they green? He wonders yet again. But those blue eyes, they are the colour of the Arctic glaciers, he remembers those eyes vividly. He wants to remember more. He wants to remember his past life but all he can think of now is feeding on this delicious brain. He continues stuffing more brains into his lips. He feels jealous of the dead man in his hands. It must be great to still be alive and be able to remember things but decides to push that feeling away and just continue pushing food into his mouth. His hunger is what is important now, feelings or what is happening now can be dealt with later on a full stomach. Eat now or lose a chance to eat again.  _ __  
__  
_ More moans could be heard as plenty more lumbered toward the dead bodies and tore into them savagely like a pack of wild starving animals. It was a messy sight with body parts flying all over. The fight happens as they pick at the open brains. This is dinner for them, food for the undead that raised. Cannibalism of their own kind but only that those who are being consumed will no longer be able to turn into the undead. If they are lucky they will stay dead, those who are not lucky enough to only get bitten will turn into something like the creature that killed them. They will be damned to walk the Earth rotting away until they are put out of their misery sooner rather than later or just wither away from the lack of food as some do. He has walked past a few who lay wasted from not getting food, he felt pity for them but he himself has to keep moving if he wants food. _ __  
__  
_ A loud pounding sound echoes through the store. The shop doors are getting pounded on. He knows the door will not hold long since it is just cheap glass and plastic. He should be running while he still can but the brain in front of him stops him. He is hungry and the need to consume won over his instinct to run. The deep hungry that could not be stopped is causing him to consume what was left of the brains. He needs to feed. He needs to eat. It was like a broken record on his head repeating over and over again as he scrapes at what is left of his meal. _ __  
__  
_ The door shatters. He does not run. He was too hungry to run away when there is a ready source of food in front of him. Gunfire lights the dim supermarket. More screams and groaning filled the room. He picks up on the sickly sound of bones cracking along with more bang of the gun. He is not sure which side is winning, all of them sounds the same to him as he covers his ears. He hopes deep down today would not be his last day. Although he wanted to die and put out of this mindless existence but deep down there is a part of him that still wants to live although he has turned into a monster. He wants to live again as a normal human. He still has some hope to be alive again.  _ __  
__  
_ “Round all of them up. Make sure the PDS sufferers are taken safely. Gun down any hostiles.” Commands were barked out. _ __  
_  
_ __ He tries to hide. His instinct tells him that he should be hiding and not be caught or something terrible will happen to him like all those before him. He curls himself up in a corner, waiting. Waiting for humans to disappear. Waiting to be left alone. Waiting. 

 

_ He does not want to be caught. But he was not so lucky today it seems when torches are shined at his face as more heavy footsteps approach his position. He hisses at them, moving to lunge at them but a blow to his chest threw him off balance.  _ __  
__  
_ “Restrain him. We need them transported to the facility.”  _ __  
__  
_ He knows he is doomed now that he is captured. He screams to be let go of but it only comes out as groans and screeches as he kicks in frustration on his inability to communicate. He tries to fight them from restraining him and earning himself another blow to his neck.  _ __  
__  
_ ‘I don’t want to die....’ His eyes widen at the shotgun pointing at his skull. And all turned black for him as he collapsed. _ __  
  
****   
  
The sharp pain in his neck shook him out of the memories as he winces, his face scrunching up from the sting. Q lets out a shaky breath as the medication courses through his body, his whole body buzzing in effect. He could feel himself shakes as the flashback induced by the shot subsides. It felt like he has been punched in the chest and his heart hammer against his ribs if only he is still alive for his heart to beat but he knows it is not true, his brain is making things up. He is no longer alive just simply existing, just one of those who survived but never going to be the same again.  __ A Zombie -- the flesh-eating, brain munching, goop splattering diseased monsters humans shoot on sight or bludgeon their heads in. Decapitation is also on the menu. Oh, joy. Let the heads fall and they tumble.

 

He is now one of the ‘Rotters’. He hates that name but he can’t complain since zombies do smell awful so guess the name fits. He hates having these shots daily that comes with being in the facility and keeping his sanity. It terrifies him to see memories he wants to be forgotten flashing in him like it just happened yesterday. It was not pretty nor worth reliving daily also at the same time each day. The memories that his brain provide daily with different ones in a way to remind him of the monster he has become. It terrified him to no extent what he is capable of doing before his untreated state. He is still frustrated at not remembering his own name but he decides to call himself Q for the time being. All he could remember are the bad memories of the kills and consumptions of human he did while he was still a zombie, well not was but still is a zombie. He is not even fully cured even now. Still a zombie, still dead just with memories and control over the body.     
  
Q rubs at the spot where he was injected, his fingers brush at the catheter on his neck. That will now be a permanent part of his body until he is dead or magically turns back into a human if there is such a thing as magic in this world. The black hole to his survival, literally and metaphorically - the thin line between being ‘cured’ and going insane. The line between “'Ello gov'na?” and “BRAINSSSS!”. That is the price he has to pay for being brought into the centre to be cured and wanting to live. Q hates that he is now in this state. He should have stayed dead but the universe decides it was not his time and brought him back. He is thankful for his life not been cut short since he has much to do before he is willing to go or so he thought he did before he was brought here but he still does not appreciate being in this state of undead. A zombie? Really? Why can’t he be a vampire or merman? Hell, even a fairy would be a much better choice than a bloody zombie. The universe must have really hated him enough to turn him into a moving corpse.   
  
“Breathe, Orion. Deep breaths and tell me what you saw.” Doctor Langston squeeze his shoulder. Q nods and lets another breath out as he mimics the living. He has no need for breathing, he is dead. He can feel himself calm down slowly but wrinkle his nose at the strong disinfectant smell that shot straight into his lungs when he takes another breath. It burns, making him choke.   
  
“They’re getting more vivid each day doctor. I hate seeing them every day.” Q rub at his tired eyes. He felt drained. He hates remembering all those bad memories. They haunt him like a plague. He just wants them gone.   
  
“Another Involuntary Recurrent Memory coming back to you again? That’s a good sign for you, Orion. Means the cognitive circuitry connecting again. It is like a computer going into a hard rebooting again and you will be normal soon enough. Soon you will get all your memories back like usual.” Doctor Langston smiles at him. Q does not believe him one single bit. The shots do not prove anything other than him now being able to have better control of his body and cease his hunger for brains. He will never be normal like how he was before his untimely death. No matter how normal they claim he will be, he will never be free and alive.

 

_ Will I ever be normal?  _   
  
“I don’t think I will ever be normal or even feel ready no matter how long it takes.” Q murmur. He knows this injection is just a temporary fix for his “condition” until he can be permanently fixed, if he will ever be fixed again. The humans here are hopeful, him - not really. Try living as a zombie for a day and you will understand how much of a plight it is minus the resurrection part, that is actually quite cool if you are into that and don’t mind smelling putrid along with being brainless until they give you the magical potion to get your brain back into not craving brains twenty-four seven.   
  
Doctor Langston write down in the file that was handed to him by a nurse. She gave Q a small smile and Q felt a little better to have her around.    
  
Doctor Langston continues writing as he said “No. That means you are ready. You are now feeling and thinking again, that means you are making a great recovery from the medications we are administering to you. Believe me, you don’t want to be a patient who doesn’t respond to Neurotriptyline.” He turns another page and looks at it. “And soon you can leave this centre. All will be well Orion.” The nurse that is packing up the injection gun nod at him in assurance.    
  
Q’s vein throbs at that name. He has no idea why they keep calling him Orion when he doesn't even know if that is his name. He hates that name, it does sound too ridiculous to be a name for a person. ‘ _ Who even name their children after stars now?’  _ He thought. Q guess that anyone who names their son Orion either loves the star with that name, mentally unsound and want that child ridiculed his entire life or both. He hopes hard this is really is not his name. He hates to think how weird it will sound to be called that daily. He is still sure he is called something along the line of Q or something. He likes the way Q sounds on his lips so he stuck with it until he can find his real name or his memories just magically comes back. He really does hope it comes back cuz living with patchy memories get annoying after a while like looking through a misty globe and not even being sure if it is his memories or made up by his overactive brain.   
  
“Stop calling me by that name. I am not even sure if I am even called that. I much rather be addressed as Q.” Q groans as he pushes his slipping glasses up his nose bridge. He hates that despite being a zombie his eyes are pretty much still as bad it was before or was his eyes working fine when he was a mindless zombie? He never knows since he has not much memory of things. 

 

‘A zombie with glasses. How practical.’ He snorts.

 

The doctor quirked his eyebrow at him and jolts it down. Q is sure he is writing down his observation of his conditions, behaviours and his inability to recall his own name. Now he is just a lab rat to this humans to inject their cure and watch him to see if he will react to it. He guess this is better than being out there and mindlessly consuming more humans or worst of all turning others into the same mindless state he previously was. At least the only thing he has to worry about is the pesky injection and trying not to turn into goop like those unlucky ones who were tested with the newer drugs.  
  
“Well, it seems like you will be released soon. Your family would be looking forward to seeing you I believe.”  
  
“I highly doubt that will be happening.” Q shook his head.  
  
“I’m sure they will be.” Doctor Langston assures him.  
  
Q gives him a sad smile. “I’m dead. A zombie who killed plenty of innocent people while at it, I’m assuming that they are innocent. And I ate them too, which makes it way worse. I doubt anyone will want me around them and I don’t have a family. They are but bones and rotting coffins by now. So I have nowhere to go even if I want to leave this place badly. Looks like you are stuck with me to an unknown time.”  
  
“No. Don’t think it that way. What are you now?”  
  
Q does not look up. He is just blankly staring at his fingers and trying his best to ignore the question he dreads hearing. It is the same question that was being asked of his every time he expresses his discomfort with leaving the facility or call himself the taboo word. He doesn’t want to answer it. It all sounds like lies to him that was forced into his brain every since he gains control of his body by those who run the facility. It is the “Correct” answer which was what he was told by them. He has repeated the same thing each time until he has memorised it.    
  
“What are you, Orion? You are a…?” The doctor tries to prompt an answer out of him.  
  
“I am a Partially Deceased Syndrome sufferer who has been medicated and currently functioning properly. What I did in my Untreated State wasn’t my fault and I should not be blaming myself for suffering from PDS. I am better now and will be normal.” Q drone on mindlessly the answer that the doctor wants to hear even if he is cringing at the words that came out of his mouth.   
  
“Correct. So don’t worry too much, Orion. All will be well soon enough. If you have nowhere to go, I’m sure the government will allocate you a new place to stay.” Doctor Langston close the folder of his medical record and exited the room.   
  
The nurse smiles and sat by him. She slowly reaches to comb his hair and he lets her. Her gentle fingers calming him down further. He likes her, she is kind to him a lot more than the rest of the staff. Q always look forward to seeing Samantha. She will make sure he is doing fine and bring him more books. He likes her for treating him like an equal instead of disgust. Q has started to see her more as an older sister he never had. “I brought you more books, they are not new through. I hope you like it since they are of fantasy. Nothing too modern except The Game of Thrones I managed to sneak in. I still don’t understand that book well but oh well you can always tell me later what it is about. Won't you? Shh... Don’t tell them that I handed you those books.” Q smiles and nods in agreement. She waves her goodbye and left him more books before leaving, the door clicks shut with a soft beep and now he is alone again. His smile drops the moment she left.   
  
He is alone again to think about his future that he is not even sure he had. He has no clue where he can go if he leaves this place. _Do I still have a home to go back to? Does anyone from his previous life know he is still alive? How will they react to his state now? How did he die? Was he bitten by another zombie? What was I before all of this?_ _What if the new location they reassign me to does not want me around? What if those in his street decided to murder him and put his head on a pike?_ Thoughts flash in his brain at rapid speed and it hurts his head. Q clenches his hands hoping to distract his thoughts and started humming a random tune. A habit he has picked up while living in the facility. He knew he will forever be stuck at the particular time of death -  never to age, grow or even heal. He is now just like a portrait of Dorian Grey but the zombie version of it, maybe even less good looking. 

 

He wants to remember everything about his past and know who he was instead of just random memories that did not help him much for now. Q recalls finishing school so he must be some sort of a genius since he graduated from Oxford, or was it just a false memory. He muses at the thought as he looks through the stack of books. They are the usual classics - Dickens, Tolkien's which he enjoys and H.P Lovecraft; the father if horror monsters and a twisted genius. Q picks it up and smiles as he runs his finger over the spine of the book and opens it to the page. “The Call of Cthulhu” was printed in gilded golden words with a picture of the monster embossed into the leather cover. He loves how Lovecraft is able to describe all the nightmarish dreams well. Just like the nightmarish dreams, he is having lately.   
  
A few sharp knocks on his door before a wizened face peering out from under a wedge of blue hat steps into his room. The older man removes his hat and gives Q a warm smile. The map of wrinkles on his face crinkle up in his smile. His eye lines told of laughter, of warm smiles and affection. He has become a common visitor to Q’s room visiting twice a week ever since his solitary confinement. He is a visit Q always look forward to. Talking to him makes Q feel alive and he is really fond of having him in his room even if it is for a short while. And he gave him the book Q is currently holding in his hands.   
  
“Ah… Good afternoon Q my boy. Good to see that you are up and reading. I must say it is a very good book you have there.” The man folds his coat and places it on the table before he slowly lowers himself into a chair with a huff, his leather briefcase landing beside him. 

 

“Old age. Now I can feel my knees aching whenever it is about to pour. Hopefully, it won’t be too windy or I will be whisked away by the young chap who brought me here and be bundled up to keep the chill away. The young ones treating me like I’m fragile. I have seen a lot more in the war then they did.” He laughs at his own joke.   
  
Q looks up from his book and smile at the old gentleman. “Good afternoon sir. I would have offered you tea if only they allow me to own a kettle and some tea bag. Seems like I am a danger to myself from the lack of items they have provided for me here.” Q quickly peeks at the door before it close shut. 

 

‘Ah, he came with another stranger yet again.’ Q thought to himself as he cranes his neck hoping to get a better view of his face rather than just his back.   
  
The old man smiles and flicks his hand. “It’s fine. Stop with the sir. You do remember my name right son? Major Boothroyd. Just call me Major. I have enough people calling me sir that it gets annoying. Now shall we do more puzzles and discuss topics?”    
  
Q nod along and takes the Rubik’s cube handed to him. He studies the sides and solved it in record time before handing it to Boothroyd who is holding a stopwatch. He still wonders why he is given these puzzles when he can finish it with ease. Boothroyd presses another cube into his hand now with 7 x 7 x 7 sides. He went through the same process and solve it again. It continues with many other puzzles until Boothroyd runs out of puzzles to test him. Q grins with satisfaction knowing he did well.    
  
“Well done my boy. Shall we stop here for now.” Boothroyd keeps all the puzzles away in his case. “Are you excited to finally leave this place? I’m sure you want to explore the world. A young brilliant lad like you shouldn't be cooped up in here. Where are you planning to go? Maybe a drive down to France? I heard that it is a good weather at this time of the year.”   
  
Q just shrug. He has no idea where exactly he can go since he is not even sure what he did or was before he became a PDS sufferer. “I’m… I’m not sure Major. I can’t even remember much of what I was before all this happened. I don’t really want to leave to be honest. I’m scared.” He stutters out. He wonders why he is stuttering.   
  
Q plays with his wrist and look at his identification bracelet. It is made out of metal unlike what the others have, they get cheap plastic ones. Another thing that puzzles him was that he is kept away from the general population which is unusual from the standard procedure. He knows how the system works. First, you get thrown into a solitary confinement, forcefully medicated and kept under high observation until you turn “Normal” whatever normal means to them but it just means you no longer crave for brains. He has walked past some of those padded cells before and see how horrific a newly captured zombie looks before they are medicated. It still sends shivers down his spin to see how the patients are restrained while they are still in their uncured state like they are rabid dogs. Those who did not react to the medication usually just disappears, gone, poof. Probably killed is what he is guessing. There is never a shortage of research labs who want zombies, dead or alive (that statement itself is quite ironic since they are already dead just going to be made much more dead). 

 

Step two of this process will be having yourself disinfected of all the dirt and germs from the outside world than dressing in the uniform provided. He remembers the disinfection part of the entire process all too clearly. It was a nasty business especially when you are stripped of all your current clothes and sprayed down with chemicals that are way too harsh for the skin to be cleaned of all the “diseases”. It makes him feel inhuman but he could not say much especially when you have foul-tasting chemicals being sprayed all over at full blast and in your mouth as you choke for air and the fluids go down your lungs with each breath. It burned and hurt him to tears. Then again he is now a zombie so technically he is not human. Sadly now human treatment does not apply to him anymore so he just assumes for that reason he deserves that treatment. They are just barely humans to all now no matter what the government says. Some are sent off to government research centres to experimented on but those never return which he assumes just get killed off as usual. He is not supposed to know that but guards talk when they think no one is listening. 

 

Part three is  _ deadly _ boring with loads of talking to the doctors and getting medicated. Then he is assigned to a room with another stranger who will be his roommate. It is good to finally have a roommate to talk to and they are allowed to socialize with the rest of the PDS sufferers. But the idea of being locked in a room and having no say in when he will be let out of his room to roam unnerves him to no end. It is like he is being imprisoned with the crime being that he decided to raise from the dead rather than staying dead as he should have. 

 

Q tries to make do with what he has. All is well and routine until he is plucked out of the general population and placed in a separate location with a change of wristband. Now he is stuck with the metal one that jingles whenever he moved his hand like an indicator of his movement. They might as well put a bell on his neck like a cat from how loud it sounds in a quiet room. The jingling drove him crazy and he has tried to undo it countless times until they just permanently lock it to his wrist.   
  
It is a strange experience for him when he is watched constantly like he is a dangerous criminal. It gets lonely and scary when you are escorted from places to places by a guard all the time. His contact with others was reduced close to none. If he is lucky he gets to chat with a few of his old friends but always under high observation. Even his usual doctor is replaced with a new one. The situation is so bizarre that it made him even wonder if he is a criminal before he was turned and they just found out about his history just recently thus keeping him separated just in case his memories come back. His suspicion was left to rest by Major who is kind enough to visit him as much as possible and assure him that he is just being silly in his thought and he is very harmless. He still gets curious at times and asks his guards why he is kept separate from the others. They never acknowledge or engage him, they are just there to bring him from places to places. Even if they do it is just to tell him to hurry up or to get moving if he decided to stop longer than he should. He always wonders why he is isolated but no one ever answers him when he asks time and time again. Even the doctors and nurses did not help much.   
  
Q’s let himself not think too much in the matter and enjoy Major’s company whenever he comes by. The old man might be a little peculiar but the conversations they had are wonderfully stimulating for him. With the amount of familiarity they spoke Q hope Major might be related to him or even be a family friend but this was never confirmed. He can still hope.    
  
“Ah… But my boy, you don’t know until you are out of here. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” The older man places a laptop in front of him. “Want to take a look at this? I need a second pair of eyes for it. And here is the blueprint.” The old man starts rolling out sheets of papers.

 

“But Major, I am just being realistic about my odds of even getting back to society once I leave here. No one will want to hire a zombie since we have a bad reputation for munching on brains and murder. It is not ‘Oops I killed someone by accident or because they did me wrong.’ it is more of ‘Oops I killed someone and ate them cuz I have gotten hungry and humans are much more tastier than the normal food’. That will not fly with anyone, especially those who hate my kind. And what if they decide to murder me out of hate?”   
  
Q looks at the lines after lines of letters and numbers and squints his eyes at it.  _ ‘Let's see. This line is correct. This can be improved. Add a few more to that. Add this for a safeguard. And…. Done for now. ’ _ Q thought to himself as he types away and hit the space button on the laptop. Q starts humming as he types away before handing the laptop back to Boothroyd.

 

Q point at a section of the code. “I changed this since there seems to be some error and could be better. What are those for though? Looks like data encryption programs. Impressive.”   
  
Boothroyd nods in approval as he scrolls through the screen. Q suspect he is just scanning it just to buy time to say something else rather than answer his question. “I'm sure a boy of your talent will do fine out of this facility. How are they treating you here?”   
  
Q rolls his eyes at the new question. He can either be truthful or lie that everything is alright. Since Major does not look like one of those guys running this facility who expect him to always be positive he decided to be truthful.    
  
“It is as pleasant as anyone would expect it to be since we are technically trapped here in a prison that has been converted to a facility to contain zombies. It gets even more boring for me when they decided to separate me from the general public like I am a hardened criminal. And here I am with guards on my tail wherever I go even on rare occasions, I am let out to get some sun. Even when I request for a shower they won't leave me alone. Meals are sent to me and the medical staff comes to me to check on how I am doing. I am glad for that since I don’t like standing around waiting for my daily check-ups and injection like last time. I'm quite sure the guards who are “protecting” me don't really care what happens to me. They are just under orders from God knows who. Maybe I was a dangerous criminal in my previous life. Maybe I was a psychopathic killer.” He makes an air quotes for the word protect. “And frankly speaking… I think they are the actual zombies rather than me. I have more life in me than those bunch.” He leans close to Major, whispering the last sentence with a cheeky grin. Q eyes at the guards standing outside his door through the small glass window. His eye lands again at the man who he was curious about previously. He knows that it is not one his usual guards since he is not wearing a beret like the rest of them but instead he is clad in a suit which fits his body perfectly. He wanted to ask who that might be since he came along with Major but decided against it. It is never good to be too noisy especially here. The less he knows the better it is for himself. But it is still a wonder to him who this new man might be. Maybe he is with Boothroyd and that is the young lad he was referring to. Q wonder if he knows him since he is accompanying Boothroyd but Boothroyd always comes with different people each time he came to visit. Q has kept track of them from having nothing to do.   
  
And now that said man is turning to knock at his door. Major let out a short sigh. “Well, my boy it looks like it is time up for me. Duty calls, I have to take my leave now.” The older man places his hat on his head and throws on his jacket. Q let out a small smile and held out his briefcase with a short wish of ‘have a good day’. Major smiles and wish him well before leaving with the new man Q is curious about. He only saw a flash of sandy blond hair dressed in a smart grey suit as the door shut itself. Q shrug it off and went back to his reading. His time of fun and excitement has come to an end, time for him to go back to his much unchanging routine of books and eating. He curls up in his bed and continues looking through the lines, doing his best to keep his concentration on the interesting part coming up where the monster finally comes to roam. His eyes itch making him want to just dig it out of the socket but stops himself. Q rubs at it gently as he adjusts his glasses that are now skewered. He nods at his guard when they brought him nutrition but did not bother getting up to receive his rations which are left on a table as it always was. He ate while he continues reading. The food tastes disgusting. He still wonders why he is made to eat even when everything tastes bland. He has tired pouring a whole packet of salt on it just to see if he can taste it better but nothing seems to work. The only food that tastes right is artificial brains which were only given to him once every two days. He much rather have the nasty artificial brains than what he has now.

 

He pushes away his food making a disgusted face. He hates the food provided today and much rather not make himself sick by eating them. He went to knock on the door of his room. An annoyed guard opens it and asks him what he wants.  

 

“Do you have an artificial brain tube? I’m still hungry.” Q tries to sound as pathetic as he could and even made his eyes sad to get sympathy.

 

The guard peeks in to look at his food plate and shut the door with a short ‘no’. Q groan at his unsuccessful attempt and sulks back to his bed.

 

Q went back to his book. He is going through the book fast until he slowly slips into darkness. He tries to shake himself awake to read a few more lines but he felt too tired to continue reading, darkness creeping in before all go dark. The book in his hands slipping out of his grip, falling to the floor as he drops to his bed.    
  
****   
  
_ Loud ringing fills his ears. Agony. Searing pain races through his body and he cannot move. It hurts so much that he wishes for the release of death. He tries to scream for help but all he can do is make gurgling sounds as the weight pressing down on him makes it impossible to draw a breath, forcing the air from his lungs. When he tries to wiggle free, the stone shifts, crushing him further into place and lighting every nerve ablaze with shooting pain. He's cold and wet, losing feeling throughout his body with every second that passes. He can no longer think straight as blood drips from his lips. His eyesight blurs but not due to tears welling up. Everything becomes fuzzy. Then there is nothing at all as darkness descends on him. He tells himself that if he just goes to sleep all the pain will fade away. _

 

_ The next time he woke up from his sleep he sees the sky covered with dark ominous clouds all around as the owl hoots eerily around him before it flew off in a ruffle of feathers. He looks at his hands that are now covered by dirt. ‘Why is there dirt on my hands? Where am I?’ He wonders as he turns his palms over and looks around. He can smell fresh dirt and something sweet. The sweet scent disappeared before he could identify it. Cold, he felt so cold right now as rain drizzled around him washing away the dirt from his hands. He looks around where he is now. Hunger bites into him and he felt so confused by his strange hunger. Oh, he will give anything to get some food to stop this pain. His head jolts up when he caught the sweet smell again. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the smell that makes his stomach growl. He lumbers after the mysterious scent, his mouth watering at the thought of finally quenching the gnawing hunger in his belly. He is not even sure why he is famished. ‘Maybe I have not eaten for a few days? What do I even eat?’ He questions himself. He made a bemused grunt at the thought of food. The noise surprised him. He tries again to make words but all that comes out is more grunts and moans with every new attempt. He felt fustrated at not being able to speak. _

 

_ The smells get stronger by the second. He decides to leave talking for another time and follow it. The sweet scent leads him away from his original location. His brain feels numbs with only the thought of hunger. Eat. Hungry. Food. It tells him on repeat like a chant. His movements are messy and uncoordinated. It made him seem like a newborn child learning to walk. He moves aimlessly after the trail knowing whatever is at the end there will be food for him. All is dark around him and the rain becomes heavy as thunder booms at the distance. It scares him when lightning flashes around him. He panics when the scent he was following starts to mix with the smell of mud and rain. He needs to find the source before he totally loses it. He starts to aimlessly follow it hoping to find whatever that is giving that scent soon.    _

 

_ He finally chances upon the source of the delicious scent and his eyes widen. It was coming from a human. ‘Hungry. Eat. Food. Go.’ His mind commands him. But another part of his mind was stopping him. He is not sure which is winning at the moment as he jerks around with two sides of his brain fighting over the control of his body. ‘What is wrong with me?’ He questions as he takes another step toward the unsuspecting human who has no idea what is coming. He watches as the human approaches to his location shining his torchlight around to lid the way. The unsuspecting human looking around as he wipes away the rainwater on his face for better vision. The smell of the human now stronger and he had to try his best not to moan out in happiness on how delicious the flesh will taste once he sinks his teeth into it.  _

 

_ He made his move but his foot kicked some stone causing it to roll toward the path his prey is travelling on. His prey looks up and shines the torchlight as his eyes... _

 

_ **** _

 

Q’s eyes snap open from the hand that touches his hands. The light shines brightly on him only allowing him to see shapes of people who are heavy geared holding those lights at him. He is groggy from sleep and his nightmare putting him on the edge. The lights shining at his eyes made it worse as it agitated him greatly. His fight instincts are triggered. He lunged at the nearest intruder who entered his room. Q bites down hard at his arm.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I managed to post something for Halloween so cheers!
> 
> Do leave me a kudos and comment!
> 
> *Does a dorky dance and dance like an electric eel.*
> 
> Kyu out!


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